Deepwood Weald Who to follow but my own troubled self

She had awoken from her perch on the cliffside as soon as the sun has risen beyond the rolling skin of the Sea Mother, skirting the thick woodland that bore the strong odour of many. For the first time in her life, she had been travelling away from her beloved ocean; away from the secrets and hidden wonders she withheld, moving inland as her paws followed the gentle breeze ribboning inwards across the crested waters. The tawny wolf was still fresh in her mind yet not for the fondest of reasons; his dislike to the navy depths had flipped a certain switch in the mind of the soldier, however irrational it was.

The strong scent of forest cleared the thoughts from her head and she raised her golden gaze to scan her surroundings; thin, straggly pine trees twisted and twined together in the most horrific of ways. "Missä minä olen?" she breathed, the fur along her spine beginning to rise up as her very bones spoke the language of fear. Yet she was a warrior, a legionary; a little unfamiliarity wouldn't shake her. Besides, Sisko was here. Those thoughts of comfort tumbled round and round her head as she stood silent, senses alive as they sought to find the direction in which she had come from.